Saturday, March 16, 2013

HOLLYWOOD STYLE

Many posts here recount moments on TriMet that were dark, or at least twilit. A few, however, glimmer happiness, or at least amusement. The following is a repost of an entry from 2011. It did not take place on TriMet or at a bus stop, but on a detour during the commute home -- close enough!

I hit the Hollywood Trader Joe’s at
least once a week. T.J.’s has deals, like $2.99 for a bottle of
drinkable wine or a can of organic beans for $.69. (My family is as
organic as a benzene ring.) And the store is on the way home.

One
dark, wet, cold evening, I was in my T.J.’s, loading up. Into the
shopping cart went deals on two pounds of organic, fair trade coffee for
about $12, a couple of chocolate bars for under $2 each, a bunch of
(organic) bananas, and a few jars of (organic) tomato sauce.

The
store, which is always either busy, or some level of busier than busy,
was busier than usual. Carts were jammed in every aisle. Despite the
usual friendly efficiency of the employees, eternity gained ground.
Lines got snaky long.

All
right. I probably sighed loudly. I asked the cashier if she would
keep the bag of groceries at the checkout for a moment. She nodded and
turned to the next customer.

I
sat down on a kid-size bench kept near the front door. I pulled out my
phone and tried to reach my wife to have her move some money over,
which would take no time, problem solved. But she didn’t answer.

After
a couple of tries, I looked up. A woman I didn’t know was standing
there, smiling warmly and fanning some currency at me.

She said, “Here, let me take care of your groceries.”

“No,” I replied politely but with some force. “No thanks. You’re very kind, but I’ve got it handled. Thanks.”

She
went away. I tried again to reach my wife, while entertaining
resentful thoughts, like “I’ve got a job,” “I’m not at the end of my
resources,” and “Do I look like I need a handout?” Again the electronic
connection failed to materialize.

There
was nothing to do but leave. I zipped up my jacket tooth by tooth,
pulled my hat down and adjusted it, over the left ear, over the right
ear, took my gloves from my jacket pockets one at a time. But the call
did not come.

Then
the cashier was coming at me. She had a bag of groceries, which she
set down at my feet. I could see my tomato sauce and bananas.

I said, “Did that woman pay for these?”

“Yep. She said to pay it forward.'”

The angel was still at the checkout; I caught her at the door and thanked her.

About Me

ABOUT ME
Since you're dying to know:
I worked as a reader and then as story editor for ITC, a (defunct) TV movie company in Studio City, California.
I wrote a few film reviews that Urb magazine published when it was just getting off the ground.
I've completed a half-dozen film scripts; number seven is an eco-thriller with a spiritual theme that will send multitudes into transports of ecstasy.
I make a living as a business writer in the dynamic and unpredictable field of insurance.
I've been lucky enough to contribute to the pocket-size Free Fun Guides. If you live in the populous parts of Southern California, or in the Bay Area, Portland, Seattle or New York, you should get one and never leave home without it. Web site: www.freefunguides.com
I live in Portland, Oregon with my wife and daughter, where we long for an occasional sunbreak and I drink the world's best coffee, usually black.